


Folding Paper Cranes in the Bath

by teyla



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Intimacy, M/M, Minor Emily Potter, Polyamory, Romantic Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teyla/pseuds/teyla
Summary: Right here, with Ben in his arms and the night sky above them, the idea that Ben’s love doesn’t need to be reserved for one person seems not only plausible, but likely.Or: the one in which Emily has had enough of the mutual pining and sends Ben and Sammy off to sort out their feelings. Set in current (May '19) canon.





	Folding Paper Cranes in the Bath

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kfamchallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kfamchallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Extremely sappy and soft affection and intimacy is the name of this game (prompt, I supposed I mean), specifically with the prompt of bathing/washing together. Can be nonsexual and nonromantic, but also can be NSFW and very romantic. As long as there is gentleness and both of these guys getting the love they deserve, I will be happy.

“Emily!”

Sammy ducks past Ben, who’s lugging an awkwardly packed duffel bag towards the car. Emily’s halfway up the stairs, her arms full of Sammy’s neater but stuffed-to-bursting suitcase. With a quick thanks, he takes it from her and deposits it at the foot of the stairs.

“Hey. Emily.” She gives him a smile. He returns a nervous one. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Uhm.” They’re still in the hallway, stuck on the stairs in an awkward position that puts Emily above Sammy’s eye level. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s—”

She follows him into the kitchen. It’s not much better than the stairs, really; there isn’t anywhere to sit. Sammy crosses his arms and leans against the counter.

“I just—” He frowns. “Thing is, I talked to Ben.”

“Okay.” Emily searches his face. “Sammy, what’s going on? Ben’s waiting in the car—”

“Yes, I know. He can wait for a minute.”

Emily’s eyebrows climb towards her hairline, and Sammy takes a deep breath. He should’ve planned out what he was going to say. “I talked to Ben about this trip.”

“That’s—good. Did you make any plans about what you’re going to do?”

He’s pretty sure she’s doing this on purpose. She has to know what he’s getting at. “Ben told me. He told me what _you_ said this trip—what you said we should do on this trip.”

“What I said you should—oh!” Suddenly, she’s blushing. Maybe she wasn’t doing it on purpose after all. “He did? Did he—go into a lot of detail? About what I said?”

“Detail?” He can feel his own ears growing warm. “He—no, he just said that _you_ said—how much detail was there to go into?”

“Not—that much—” She gives up on the transparent lie and trails off. The tension is thick enough to cut, until she releases it with a laugh. “Jesus, Sammy, I’m sorry. I just—” She bites her lip, takes a step closer. She’s only a couple feet away from him now, closes the distance further and puts a hand against his chest.

Their eyes meet. There’s a fluttery feeling in Sammy’s gut that, as a younger man, he would’ve probably mistaken as attraction. He supposes that’s not too far off; it is attraction. Just not to Emily.

“I want you to be happy, Sammy,” she says. “And Ben, too. I know I make Ben happy, but—I’m not the only one who does, and that’s all right. There’s enough of him to go around.”

Sammy’s throat is suddenly dry. There’s a laugh bubbling in his chest that, if it were to escape, would probably sound a little hysterical. “Was that—size innuendo about your boyfriend?”

“I would never.” She steps back with a twinkle in her eye that says she very much would. “All I’m saying is that you don’t have to worry about me. Just—worry about you. What you want. And him.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the door. “He knows what he wants, but he’s gonna have a list of reasons for why he can’t have it.”

Sammy can’t help a snort. “Ben in a nutshell. Except when it comes to—”

“Sugary snacks and sweets, yes.” She waves her hand in a way that looks suspiciously like a shoo. “Go on. Have fun. Stop worrying. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Sammy’s already halfway to his bag, but that makes him throw a glance over his shoulder. “Considering what I know about you now, that seems to be a pretty broad field.”

“If you say still waters, I swear I will haunt you in the afterlife.”

He opens his mouth, but the sound of the car horn interrupts him.

“Sammy! Any day now is fine!”

Emily’s lips twitch. “A true romantic.”

He gives her a smile and joins Ben in the car. As they pull away, Emily waves them off from the curb.

\------

King Falls lies closer to the mountains than the coast, so the trip takes up most of the day. They have a late lunch at a Denny’s, which puts Sammy in a digestive coma. When he comes around, they’re just pulling into the vacation village’s office parking lot.

“He awakens.” Ben throws him a glance. “You missed the coastal highway.”

“Ah, damn.” Sammy rubs his eyes and stretches. “I’ll have to drive on the way back, then.”

Ben checks them in and is given a map that shows the path to their cottage. Steep turns lead them past other cabins and RV plots until they arrive all the way up the hill, where their house sits with an impressive view across the sprawl of the village. They leave the bags next to the door and head out onto the deck, which—

“Jesus, it’s _huge_.” Ben stops right in the doorway, forcing Sammy to step around him.

The deck sits on stilts over the drop of the hill and runs all the way around the house. There’s a roofed area with a BBQ and a table, and a sprawl of open space under the late-evening sky.

Sammy walks up to the railing. Bushes and shrubbery cover the mountainside all the way to the next cottage, which is far enough away to give them all the privacy they could want. As he’s watching, there’s a flash of feathers in the twilight as a late bird settles in for the night.

Off in the distance, the waves of the Pacific Ocean roll up a rocky beach carved out between steep cliffs. The sun is just sinking, illuminating sharp tree silhouettes on top of the rocks and painting streaks of saturated color into the sky.

“Can we just move here?” Ben’s come up beside him, standing close with his shoulder snug against Sammy’s. “You know I love King Falls, but this is just—”

“It’s something else.” Without thinking too hard about it, Sammy puts an arm around Ben. It’s like Ben was waiting for it. He presses up against his side and sneaks an arm around his waist. The comfort of Ben’s presence spreads through Sammy’s chest and down his spine, warm and soothing.

Part of Sammy is ringing alarm bells in his head. This is crossing a well-established boundary that can’t be crossed without invoking serious consequences. Except it seems that the whole purpose of this trip is to cross this boundary, so they don’t move. They stay where they are until the sun has sunk all the way down behind the horizon, pulling the last of the light down after it.

“Look at the stars.”

Ben says it quietly, with his cheek against Sammy’s chest and his hair tickling Sammy’s collarbone. Sammy looks up at the emerging pattern of stars.

“What’s the bright one called again?”

Ben shrugs. “Sirius, maybe. Could be Mercury. All I know about the constellations I learned from Sesame Street.”

Before Sammy can say anything, Ben’s pressed even closer. He turns his face into Sammy’s chest, his other hand coming around to the small of Sammy’s back. Sammy puts his arms around him and feels a tremble under his palms.

“Hey.” He keeps his voice soft. “You okay?”

Ben nods. His arms around Sammy tighten. “’m good. I just—”

His voice catches. Sammy rests a soothing palm against the back of Ben’s neck. He can feel Ben relax, his breathing slowing down.

“I just can’t believe we’re here.” He says it quietly, with an incredulous laugh bubbling in his voice. “I can’t believe I get to do this. It’s like I asked for two birthdays a year and just—got them. Just because I asked.”

Sammy thinks of Emily, of what she said about Ben’s list of reasons for why he shouldn’t have this. His arms tighten and he lowers his head, nudges Ben’s curls aside so he can press a soft kiss to Ben’s forehead.

“I get that.” It’s quiet, and almost too honest an admission for him to be comfortable with. If there’s ever a time for emotional honesty, though, it’s right now. “I’m not exactly familiar with how this works, either.”

“Mhm.” Ben laughs. “Seems like Emily’s way ahead of both of us. She’s amazing, I love her so fucking much.” He swallows, seems to realize what he said. Some tension returns. “Which—that doesn’t mean— _shit_. Sammy, this is really hard.”

Sammy can’t disagree. Weirdly enough, Ben’s words don’t even bother him. Right here, with Ben in his arms and the night sky above them, the idea that Ben’s love doesn’t need to be reserved for one person seems not only plausible, but likely.

He nudges his nose against Ben’s forehead again. He’s really just planning to press another kiss there, reassure Ben that he didn’t take anything the wrong way. He doesn’t count on Ben pulling back and standing on his tip-toes. Suddenly, Ben’s lips are nudging against his, soft and a little too dry after a day spent in the car.

They haven’t done this before. The potential’s been there for months—years, if Sammy’s being honest. There were a million reasons not to do it, from Emily to Jack to the feeling that this might be a path of no return—once the dam was broken, there would be no stemming the tide.

Now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel like getting swept away by a raging river. Instead, it feels natural, Ben’s lips as familiar as his smell, the tickle of his curls against Sammy’s cheek so expected it feels like it’s happened a thousand times before. Sammy closes his eyes, trails his palms over Ben’s shoulders. Nudges the tip of his tongue against Ben’s lips and can’t help but smile around the kiss, which really kind of ruins it.

“Sorry.” He bites the side of his tongue, tries to keep the laughter in his chest from busting out. “I’m sorry, I just—” He sticks his nose into Ben’s hair. “I’m really happy we’re here.”

“You are.” Ben’s grin is audible in his voice. “Shit, Sammy, I’ve never seen you like this.”

Sammy knows what Ben is talking about. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time, longer than he’d like to admit. Longer than Ben has known him.

Instead of dwelling on it, he nudges his chin against the side of Ben’s head.

“Hey, you know what?”

“Mhm?” Ben’s nuzzling gentle kisses against the side of Sammy’s neck. “What?”

“I think we have a hot tub.”

The effect is immediate. Ben pushes back, spins around. “What? Where?”

He spots it without Sammy having to point it out. It’s a grey plastic construction sitting against the wall of the cottage, thigh-high with a heavy cover that Ben’s over there and trying to pull off in a flash.

“Hey!” Sammy can’t help but laugh at the sight of Ben yanking on the unwieldy thing. “Wait, let me help.”

Together, they manage to wrangle the cover off. The tub has been prepped for their arrival, filled with water that’s still warm when Sammy sticks a finger in. Ben plunges his entire hand in, moves it back and forth and makes shadows dance across the bottom as the waves ripple in the underwater spotlights.

“Shit, Sammy, this is awesome. Are we getting in? I’m getting in.”

“Right now?”

Ben’s running off already, presumably to find his swim trunks. Sammy watches him go, tries to stifle a sudden twinge of anxiety. All of this—the starry night sky, the sound of the ocean in the distance, the deck with the beautiful view and the generous cottage, _Ben_ —it’s all too close to perfect. It’s too much of what Sammy wants, which makes him feel like he’s setting himself up for heartbreak.

Thinking like that is a sure-fire way to stay miserable forever. He learned that the hard way, the exhausting and harrowing way of closely examining bad habits and questionable coping mechanisms over the past year. They’re easy to fall back on. Tempting, too. He’s not going to.

Ben’s already in his swimwear when Sammy follows him inside, passes Sammy in the door with a wave over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess! I’ll clean it up later.”

In his excitement, Ben’s spread the contents of his bag across most available surfaces in the living room. Sammy goes about extracting his swimwear a little more carefully, and heads back outside to see Ben kneeling in the hot tub with his elbows on the edge. The underwater lights make his wet skin glisten as he glares down at the controls.

“How do I make it do the thing?”

“I assume there’s a button.”

“What would I do without you, Sammy?”

Before Sammy can reply, Ben finds the button. The hot tub’s jets start their muffled roaring, and bubbles of air rise to the surface. Ben turns around and sprawls against the hot tub’s edge. “Oh, sweet bliss.”

With Ben’s eyes closed, Sammy remains unobserved. He stays still for a moment, takes in the sight of Ben’s body in the water, Ben’s arms spread along the edge of the tub. Ben’s head tilted back, his throat exposed. For a moment, Sammy imagines standing over him, bending down and putting his mouth on Ben’s lips, on his throat and shoulders. Sliding a hand into the water and running it over Ben’s chest, finding a nipple and making it grow hard under his fingertips. Maybe getting Ben to make a sound—a sigh, maybe even a low moan.

Sammy tears his eyes away and quickly gets in the water.

“This is the life, huh?” Ben cracks open one eye, smiles at him from across the tub. It’s big enough for both of them to sit in comfortably without touching. Sammy tries to decide if that’s an up- or a downside.

“Yeah.” It’s not the most eloquent of answers. He’s not feeling the most eloquent. He’s watching Ben’s face, Ben’s eyes that he thinks he saw steal down to catch a glimpse of Sammy’s body. It’s a bit nerve-wracking. He’s not in terrible shape, but he’s always been more limbs and joints than necessary, and Ben’s expression is hard to read. “Do you—”

“Would you untie your hair?”

Ben blurts it out just as Sammy starts to speak. He interrupts himself. “What?”

The light from the tub isn’t the best for illuminating Ben’s face, but Sammy can make out enough to spot the ferocious blush creeping up Ben’s cheeks. “I—your hair. Would you—you never wear it down. I like it when it’s down, so—”

Ben trails off, apparently too embarrassed to repeat his request. Sammy’s still processing it, glances down at the bubbling water surface. Untying his hair would mean getting it wet, but that’s not really a problem. It’s more that—

“You like my hair?” He gives Ben a squint. “Most people don’t.”

“What? Why?”

Ben sounds so offended that Sammy quickly corrects himself. “I mean, most people don’t care. But when they notice it, it’s usually to make a joke.”

Ben frowns and starts to scoot over. Sammy watches him slide along the edge of the tub, get impatient, and push himself off instead. He floats closer until he settles down next to Sammy, close enough so they’re almost touching.

Sammy’s throat clicks. Ben’s eyes are wide and dark in the shadows cast by the underwater lights.

“I like it.” He raises a hand, leaves it hovering in the air until Sammy gives a nod. Ben’s fingers trail over his temple, catch a few loose strands and push them behind his ear. The touch makes Sammy’s skin prickle.

“I like that you wear it like that. I also like it when it’s down. It’s really nice hair, Sammy.”

Something tightens in Sammy’s chest, makes him close his eyes for a moment to find his composure. He reaches up, doesn’t open his eyes as he pulls the hairband out. His hair comes loose, brushes against the back of his neck and pools in the water by his shoulders. It’s stiff and a little greasy from a long day in the car, and the thing in his chest makes him want to cringe away from Ben’s touch.

Instead, he finds Ben’s eyes again, and discovers a smile on his face. He wets his lips, eyelids fluttering as Ben runs his fingers through the strands behind his ear.

“Do you like having your hair touched?”

Ben’s asking casually, like he’s inquiring about Sammy’s pizza preferences. Sammy’s still processing Ben’s proximity, the fact that he’s slid even closer so that their knees are now touching, their shoulders rubbing together in the warmth of the hot tub. It takes him a moment to reply.

“Sure. Yeah.” He clears his throat, adopts a firmer tone. “I do like it, actually.”

“Good.” Ben sounds pleased. He also sounds completely sure of himself, which Sammy is a little jealous of. For all that Ben was overwhelmed earlier, he seems to be settling in quite comfortably. “Here—” He puts a hand on Sammy’s shoulder and tugs. “Turn around.”

He maneuvers them until they’re both sitting facing the dark sprawl of the vacation village, Ben behind Sammy with his leg up and folded flush against the base of Sammy’s spine. Sammy’s not sure what he’s planning until he can feel one of Ben’s hands against each side of his neck. Fingertips rub small circles just behind Sammy’s ears, slide up into his hair and massage his scalp, with Ben’s thumbs settling against the knots at the joint of Sammy’s neck and shoulders.

“Oh.” Sammy exhales a sigh, feels his shoulders sag as his eyes slide shut. Ben’s hands on him amplify everything else his senses are picking up—the sharp smell of pines and saltwater, the rumbling drone of the nearby ocean, just so audible over the bubbling of the jets. The water on his skin, warm and soothing. When Ben’s hands slide down, along the sides of his neck and over the ridge of his spine, an involuntary shudder runs through him.

Ben’s hands grow still between his shoulder blades. “You all right?”

Sammy nods, moves his head just enough so he can feel his hair brush against his back and move against Ben’s hands and arms. Ben starts running his thumbs down along each side of Sammy’s spine, makes Sammy draw in a shaky breath. “I’m good.”

Ben continues the backrub, moves his hands all the way down to the small of Sammy’s back before he reaches back up, gathers Sammy’s hair together to gain access to the nape of his neck. His hands are firm but never painful, kneading just enough to make tension drain from the knots gathered around Sammy’s neck and shoulders. Occasionally, his fingers slide back up into Sammy’s hair to massage his scalp, making the first tendrils of a headache dissipate that was moving in after a long day in the car.

Sammy sits very still and never opens his eyes. It’s a conscious effort to stave off the urge to pull away. He doesn’t actually want Ben to stop touching him. He hasn’t been touched like this in years.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.” Ben’s voice is quiet. “You hunch up your shoulders all the time, dude. I’m surprised you can even move them anymore.” The heel of his hand presses into a bunched-up muscle, and Sammy can’t help a shuddery twitch. Ben’s hands disappear. “Too much?”

Sammy starts to shake his head, then stops. Something’s clenching in his chest, makes his heart climb into his throat.

“Maybe a little.” His voice is rough. Ben’s hands fall away, and Sammy bites the inside of his lip at the sudden loss. He takes a deep breath, sits up. Meets wide eyes filled with concern, so he reaches up to brush Ben’s hair out of his face.

“That was really nice.” He can’t seem to get his vocal cords to even out. Clears his throat again. “I just—I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time. I’m a little—”

A little what? Ben’s eyes are searching his face, and now Sammy does laugh, awkward and evasive. “I gotta get used to the idea that this is—that it’s something we can do.”

“Right.” Ben shifts. “Is this—hmm.” He clears his throat. At least Sammy’s not the only one struggling with words. “Is this something you’ve been, uhm. Is it something you’ve been wanting to do?”

His throat’s dry. He supposes answering the question isn’t much of an admission anymore, but it still feels like disclosing too much. “Kinda, yeah.” He wets his lips. “More than kinda. I’m not—” His eyebrows pull together. “I don’t do this kind of thing easily.”

“What, intimacy?” Ben’s eyes narrow. “No kidding.”

It’s caustic, not aggressive, but sharper than Sammy was expecting. It makes something in his chest clench. He drops his eyes, and immediately feels Ben’s hand on his wrist. “Hey. Hey, sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine.” He pulls his lips into a smirk, twists his hand around until he can interlace their fingers. “I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

Ben says nothing, just tightens his grip. The potential between them feels like a physical presence, surrounding them like the air in the studio at the end of a show—dense and heavy, familiar but edging towards suffocating. Just like at the end of a show, Sammy does and doesn’t want to leave—get out, get somewhere he can breathe. At the same time, stay with Ben in a cocoon of easy comfort.

The older he gets, the more complicated these things become.

“You know what we can do?”

He says it without thinking, meets Ben’s eyes with a smile that breaks their odd paralysis.

Ben blinks a puzzled smile back. “What?”

Ben’s hair is damp, strands curling on his forehead and clinging to his temples. It’s still got its volume, though, like a fluffy halo around his scalp. Ben after a shower looks like a character from West Side Story, hair slicked back and shiny. Hanging out with Ben on the couch in their apartment, Sammy’s spent a not inconsiderable amount of time watching it slowly morph back into shape while pretending to be watching a show on Ben’s laptop.

He’s never gotten to touch it, though.

“Come on.” He gets up, holds out a hand. “Let’s go inside.”

\------

“I don’t understand at all how this is less intimate.”

Ben’s in the tub already, with the shower curtain drawn and hiding him from view. The water’s running, occasional splashes indicating Ben testing the temperature.

“Being naked doesn’t always have to be intimate.” Sammy’s digging though his toiletry bag for shampoo and conditioner. “In Japan, they have public baths where complete strangers hang out together buck-naked.”

The shower curtain rustles as Ben pokes his head out. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sammy, but we’re not in Japan.”

Their eyes meet, and there’s a twinge in Sammy’s chest that belies his words. Never mind Japanese public baths, when Ben’s gaze drops down to steal a furtive glance, it’s pretty intimate.

Not necessarily bad, though. His skin prickles as he climbs into the tub.

Ben’s moved over to make space, stands half under the shower spray with a smile so uncertain it’s making Sammy’s heart go out. Ben’s skin is flushed from the warm water and the steam, probably also from the apprehension that’s pulling his shoulders up to his ears. Sammy desperately wants to steal his own furtive peek, but he curbs that urge for the moment.

“Come here.”

Ben’s willing enough to let himself be maneuvered. Sammy takes his arm, guides him into turning around. Now he can look, lets his eyes trail over freckled shoulders and down Ben’s spine to the curve of his ass.

 _You’re beautiful_. He doesn’t say it. He can’t imagine it coming across the way he means it—genuine instead of trite, a word to describe Ben’s body without comparing it to men’s magazine ideas of attractiveness. He wishes there were a better word, but all he can think of is Ben’s name. Telling Ben that he’s Ben probably wouldn’t come across any clearer.

“Sammy? What’re you doing?”

“Sorry.” He tears his eyes away, slides a hand up the side of Ben’s neck to nudge him gently underneath his chin. “Put your head back.”

Ben does, closes his eyes as the spray of the shower washes over his face. His hair soaks up water like a sponge, and now Sammy gets to touch. He runs his fingers through it, carefully nudging whenever he hits a snag. Ben’s hair is thick and heavy and takes on a properly black shade soaking wet.

“Mhm.” Lines of tension fall from Ben’s face. “Feels nice.”

“Good.”

Sammy stands very still except for his fingers in Ben’s hair, pays attention to the rise and fall of Ben’s chest to adjust the massage accordingly. Once he’s in sync, he gradually slows down his movements until Ben starts drawing slower, deeper breaths.

“Good,” he says again, quiet. “Hold still.”

Ben’s shampoo choices tend to be ruled by pragmatism. Sammy would bet money that Ben’s only brought one bottle on this trip, some generic 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. His own stuff isn’t the most expensive there is, but it’ll do more for your hair than dry it out and make it smell like Target.

“Here.” He splashes some in his palm, reaches around to let Ben catch a whiff of what the bottle calls _Essential Cedar_. Ben’s reaction is visceral. He draws in a breath and makes a pleased sound, followed by a wide smile.

“That’s really nice.”

Sammy spreads the shampoo between his fingers and slips them into Ben’s hair. Ben lets out a sigh and adds, “Smells like you.”

Sammy doesn’t have an answer to that. Even if he did, he wouldn’t trust himself to speak. He stays silent, parts Ben’s hair into thick segments just to mess them up again as he runs his hands back up from the nape of Ben’s neck.

He shampoos twice, adds conditioner, and leaves Ben to washing his body while it sets. He’s just taking care of his own hair when he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“Let me.”

Ben’s turned around. With his hair slicked back, he looks his age for once. His eyes don’t hold any of his earlier discomfort.

Sammy can’t help a smile. “You wanna wash my hair? Hate to say it, Ben, but I think you’ll need a footstool.”

Ben’s lips purse in offense. “Like hell I will. You just—”

“Hey!”

Ben’s reached up to grab a handful of Sammy’s hair. His grip isn’t painful, but firm enough to guide Sammy down, make him bow his head so his hair slides off his shoulders. He holds on to the wall for balance as Ben’s fingers start combing his hair forward.

“Ben—” Sammy laughs, shifts his stance to make it less precarious. Blinks to orient himself and realizes that while his view of Ben’s face is blocked, there’s another part of Ben that’s now firmly in his field of vision.

He clears his throat, reaches out blindly to hold on to Ben’s shoulder. “Ben.”

“Mhm. Hold still.”

Sammy follows Ben’s instructions as Ben’s fingers start massaging his scalp. His eyes are fixed on Ben’s stomach, on the rivulets of water running down, past Ben’s navel and snagging in the fuzz of his happy trail. He lets his gaze wander further down, over the tangle of pubic hair to where Ben’s dick sits nestled in Ben’s crotch.

The prickling under his skin never really stopped. It intensifies now, combines with the warmth of the shower and ties a loose knot of pressure at the base of his spine. He runs his tongue over his lips, imagines what it’d feel like to bow down further, get to his knees and put his mouth where his eyes are now. Wonders if Ben would make a sound, if he’d tighten his fingers in Sammy’s hair to hold him in place.

A shudder runs through him. His grip on Ben’s shoulder tightens, and he reins himself back in by taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

If Sammy had any doubt whether Ben noticed his change in composure, it’s dispelled by Ben’s tone. He can feel a blush creep up his cheeks and straightens up. Ben’s hands fall away.

“I’m fine.” Ben’s watching him, attentive. “I just—” He’s suddenly tongue-tied. Ben reaches out, and Sammy takes his hand, guides it up to his mouth to press a kiss on the inside of Ben’s wrist. “There’s a lot of things I wanna do. A lot of things I’m thinking about. I just—” He frowns, clears his throat. “I think it’s gonna have to be slow. I hope—”

“It’s fine.” With Sammy’s words, Ben’s eyes widened. Now he interrupts, takes a step closer and slides his hands behind Sammy’s neck. “As much time as you need, Sammy.” He frowns. “As much time as _I_ need. I’m still—”

He trails off. Sammy rests his hands on Ben’s waist. “You’re still what?”

“I’m not sure how we got here?” Ben says it like he’s testing it out. “I like it, it’s good, and—I love you, Sammy. You know that I do.”

Sammy doesn’t trust himself to speak, but a nod seems to be enough.

“I gotta wrap my head around this being what we do now.” Ben wets his lips. “I keep feeling like I should be telling Em, when she’s the one who’ll be disappointed if we don’t do anything. It’s just—it’s—”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.” Ben sounds relieved, gives a nod and sends droplets of water flying. “Complicated.”

“Too complicated?”

It hangs in the air like an imminent life-or-death verdict. Ben’s eyes find Sammy’s.

“No.” He shakes his head. His voice cracks a little. “Not for me, anyway.”

Sammy knows what he would like to say in response. He takes a moment to listen to his heart, though, tries to coax the elusive fucker into giving him a hint.

“Nor me.” When he finally says it, he’s as sure as can be that it’s the truth.

Ben’s face splits into a grin. Suddenly, Sammy’s got an entirely naked, slippery Ben Arnold pressing up close. He doesn’t particularly mind.

“Good.” Ben stands on his tip-toes to give Sammy a kiss. It’s warm and watery and tastes faintly of soap. “It’s a deal, then.”

“It’s a deal.”

At this point, they’re both conditioner-free, so Sammy reaches past Ben to turn off the shower. The sudden loss of warmth makes Ben shudder.

“Gah,” he says, squirms out of Sammy’s embrace to climb out of the tub. “Fluffy towel time.”

Sammy watches Ben go, his eyes briefly drawn to Ben’s ass again. Ben covers it up quickly, grabs a towel off the stack by the sink to wrap around his shoulders.

“Hey, Ben?”

In the process of toweling off, Ben throws a glance over his shoulder. “Mhm?”

Sammy gives him a smile. “I love you, too.”


End file.
